by Cassie Page
Johnson didn’t blink. “Richards has us convinced you couldn’t have done a thing like that, the texts I mean. But until we can explain their showing up on your phone we got a problem with you. Officially, that is. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“And why is that,” Olivia said, surprised that Matt was coming to her defense. “Why are you here?”
“Apart from asking you about going into the Payne’s house, we’re chasing down Xavier. You wouldn’t know where he is, would you? We just need to check some things out with him. Richards, er, Matt reminded us that you were doing a job for him. He thought you might know where he is. Said you were so helpful and all that you wouldn’t mind coming to our assistance. You know, by helping us track down Xavier. Matt said. He thinks you’d be an excellent source for us. He’d ask you himself but you know, legal matters and such like. You know, over which he has no control.”
Olivia reared back a little at the glut of Matt-references Johnson was throwing down. In the past, Johnson all but avoided her if they happened to meet on the street or at functions she attended with Matt, such as the department’s holiday party or the funeral service for an employee killed in a traffic accident while coming to work a few months back. Olivia had once given the woman some tips on decorating the enormous RV she and her husband used for their vacations. Matt assured her it was appropriate she attend the service.
But when she greeted Johnson at the gathering afterwards with a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a donut balanced on a paper plate in the other, Johnson had registered boredom. They exchanged pleasantries, Olivia asking about his kids, Johnson just saying, “They’re all good,” then steering his wife by the elbow and wandering off without inquiring about Olivia’s wellbeing.
But now it dawned on her. Johnson and Matt had cooked up this visit together, a way of getting a message to her without Matt’s lawyer knowing about it. The police would know better than Olivia how to track down someone they wanted to question. So this had to be a ruse to show that Matt was thinking about her, probably having as much trouble with the enforced separation as she was. On the surface it seemed impossibly romantic with Johnson an unlikely go between, a scene out of Shakespeare. Except that she was still suspected of murder. Officially. Nothing romantic there. And she was still furious with Matt for the legal tactics he was using.
“No, I don’t know where Xavier is,” she said briskly. “Have you tried the shop or his apartment?”
Johnson stuck his device in his coat pocket, which seemed to have acquired a permanent sag from its weight. “Well, that’s what’s strange. He put a sign on his store that he would be out of town indefinitely and he’s not picking up his phone. Do you have his private number or twitter account or something so we can get a message to him?”
Olivia shook her head, perplexed. “No. The numbers I have for him are on his website. Including his personal cell. He likes to be available 24/7 in case someone wants to buy an expensive piece of jewelry in the middle of the night. You know how billionaires are.”
Her sarcasm sailed over Johnson’s head.
He asked, “Do you know if he had travel plans?”
Olivia owed the police department her complete cooperation. But she also owed her friend some camouflage. She didn’t want to reveal the altercation with Mrs. Harmon, so she just said, “I spoke to him earlier and he didn’t say anything about going out of town. And I can’t imagine why he would. On top of the break-in and Mrs. Payne’s death, he’s got the remodeling on the second floor to oversee. I mean, I’m in charge of the project, but he’s a pretty hands-on guy. He wouldn’t disappear while that’s underway.”
Johnson perked up. “Disappear? What makes you think he disappeared?”
“I didn’t mean he actually disappeared. It’s just an expression, Bob. Last time we talked he was anxious to have your people clear the site so I could get my crew back on the job and finish up. He’s planning a gala celebration for the opening of the second floor. Royalty is coming. He wouldn’t be going out of town with all that going on.”
Johnson stroked his chin, considering his next question. “What about family? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Anyone he might be hanging out with?”
Olivia shifted her weight, saw through the window the mailman out at the curb stuffing bills and junk mail into her box. “If there was someone it would be a girlfriend, but he had a breakup a few months ago and told me he was off dating. He has no family in the States, but there are some people in Buenos Aires he’s close to. Oh, his cousin, Martin. He’s here now. He might know.”
Johnson nodded his head. “Yeah, we should talk to him.”
He pulled out his tablet again and scrolled through some notes, then shoved it back in his pocket. “I don’t have his contact information. Do you?”
Olivia frowned. “For Martin? No. I never had much to do with him other than we were cordial. Language problem there.”
She remembered seeing Martin being manhandled when he tried to get into Xavier’s. “One of the officers at the scene talked to him, so your department should have his contact info.”
Johnson rubbed his hands together like an MC closing up a show. “Okay, then. That’ll do it. A little worrisome that he’s dropped out of sight, seeing as how his place was the scene of an incident. Well, if you hear from him, tell him we need to ask a few questions. Nothing he should worry about.”
Since Johnson was being so chummy, Olivia decided to try to get some information.
“Do you have any more news about how Jocelyn died or what she was doing in the shop or how she got past the security system or . . . “
Johnson held up his hand to stop the flood of questions. “Whoa, Miss Granville. All I can say is that this is an ongoing investigation. When we have anything of interest to report to the public, we will let you know.”
Olivia gave him a humorless smile. “Glad I’m part of the inner circle.”
Johnson opened his hands. “What can I say? I’m sure Detective Richards would tell you the same thing.”
“If his lawyer would let him.”
“The breaks,” he said, apropos of nothing.
Before he left, Johnson pointed his finger at Olivia. “Don’t forget. If you talk to him, we want a word. Xavier, I mean.”
Olivia swept her hand around. “Have a look, Detective. I’m not hiding Darling Valley’s number one jeweler.”
She was upstairs in a flash, grabbing her phone and running down the hall to barge into the guestroom where Tuesday was on the floor deep in concentration, giving herself a mani-pedi to match her verdant hair.
Mid-big toe, Tuesday looked up, startled. “What’s up?” she said, as she carefully finished the nail and returned the wand to the bottle without spilling any Pearlized Forest Green on Olivia’s rug.
Xavier’s voicemail kicked in and Olivia held up her finger to interrupt Tuesday and leave a message for the jeweler.
“Xavier? It’s Olivia. Listen, have you pulled a disappearing act? We need to talk. Call me. And, oh yeah. Detective Johnson of the DVPD also wants a word. So you know what to do. Call me.”
She sat down on the bed, thoughtful for a moment, tossing her phone from hand to hand. “Tuesday, please tell me Xavier didn’t have anything to do with this.”
That stopped Tuesday in her tracks. “You mean you think old Xave killed one of his best customers? How does that make sense?”
“I don’t know what to think, but it is very strange that the police are looking for him and he’s nowhere to be found. I feel like a traitor for even going there, but what do you think?”
Tuesday bit her lip. “I hate to say this, but it would explain how she got into the shop. He let her in.”
“Oh my god.” Olivia covered her face with her hands. When she reappeared she said, “I didn’t think of that. I bet that’s why Johnson is looking for him. He’s thinking the same thing.”
“Do you know if Xavie boy has an alibi?”
“Not a clue. Let me think, though. M
att and I had coffee with him in his shop before, how do I say it?”
Tuesday helped her out. “BJ? Before Jocelyn?”
“Exactly. But we didn’t talk about what we’d been up to recently. It was all about sports. You know how much I love that topic. And Charles and Franny’s party.”
Olivia slammed her hand on the pillow. “I’m not going there. I’m not going to accuse Xavier of this awful thing until I’ve ruled out every other possible perp.”
Tuesday rubbed her hands together with a big gleeful grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking girlfriend?”
“I am, girlfriend. It’s time for us to do some crime busting.”
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Likely Suspects
Tuesday followed Olivia into the kitchen on her heels like a penguin, spreading her toes to protect her pedicure. The two friends sat at the island where Olivia laid out a plan.
“I started to make a list of likely suspects but only got as far as sweet Jocelyn’s boyfriends, of which she apparently had many.”
Tuesday leaned in. “Do tell.”
Olivia bit into one of the cookies Tuesday had left out. “First of all, there’s this hot carpenter, Roger Phillips. Sonia overheard him bragging to a friend about hooking up with her,” she said, her words fighting with a mouthful of chocolate chip shortbread. “And then Xavier showed me a picture of someone else she was actually kissing.”
Olivia described Xavier’s video.
“I almost laughed when I saw it because he looked like a model for one those romance novels. You know, they show a gorgeous bare-chested muscle-rippling guy and a beautiful damsel with long flowing hair wrapping themselves around each other.”
A knowing smile played on Tuesday’s face as she helped herself to another cookie. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Of course, I only read intellectual books, but I’ve heard of, what do you call them? Romance novels?”
Olivia winked. “Yeah, we all have. Well, that’s what they looked like. The money shot for a bodice ripper. Plus, the guy was very tanned and he had dark hair, very good looking.”
Tuesday crossed her eyes. “Am I drooling yet?”
“Uh oh. Clipper better get his biceps back here. But seriously, does it sound like anyone we know?”
Tuesday pondered that a second or two, then said, “Nooooo, but maybe somebody we’d like to know?”
Olivia urged her on like she was a charades partner. “C’mon. Think. Dark? Good looking?”
“Okay,” Tuesday said, playing along. “I’m with you. Getting a little out of breath trying to catch up though. Where are you going with this?”
“Matt, of course.”
Tuesday almost choked on her cookie. “You mean Matt was kissing her in Xavier’s store?”
Exasperated, Olivia explained, “No, not kissing her. But the guy in the picture.”
“Matt was kissing the guy? Boy, I did not see that coming.”
Now Olivia flashed a cross-eyed look. “Oh, come on Tuesday. Keep up. If you messed around with that picture it would be a cinch to make him look like Matt.”
Tuesday leaned forward. “Okay. I’m paying real close attention, girl, but your signal isn’t coming through.”
Olivia explained in frustration, “Both Marguerite Fredericks and Detective Johnson have said they think the photographs were manipulated by an amateur. I bet the killer had taken his own pictures with Jocelyn. You know. Selfies. So he doctors one up to make it look like Matt and bingo. Puts a story online, anonymous of course, that Matt and Jocelyn had a thing going on and that I killed her in a jealous rage. There. That’s it.”
“You’re right. That is it. Or could be. Mos def, girl. ‘Cept for one little thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Same guy had to send the texts, right? He takes the photos and sends them to the press, then sends the texts. But how did he access your phone? How would he get your cellphone number? It’s private, right? Plus, let us not forget that Jocelyn replied to your texts so somehow she saw them.”
Olivia dismissed her concerns with a toss of her head. “Details. He’s tech savvy and knows how to do it with that thing that Cody talked about. OCD or whatever. If he could get them on my phone, he could get them on hers.”
“But why would he pick Matt? And you?” Tuesday paused. “Unless, and I’m only just throwing this out as a suppose. Suppose he’s the jealous type and really did see something between Matt and Jocelyn . . . ”
Olivia exploded. “Tuesday! Whose side are you on?”
“Give me a break here. I listened to your cockamamie theory, now listen to mine.” Tuesday pushed the package of cookies out of the way and started explaining. “He sees Matt giving her a traffic ticket or something.”
“Matt doesn’t do traffic.”
“Puleeeze, Olivia? Work with me. Forget traffic. Matt has a perfectly legitimate reason of the law enforcement variety for being behind a tall hedge at night with the deceased. Just sayin. The guy goes into a jealous rage. Confronts Jocelyn, she dumps him because he’s being a jerk and he kills her. Crime of passion. Frames you because he’s got this picture and it just makes sense.”
“Okay, but why at Xavier’s?”
Tuesday snapped her fingers. “I got it. She tells him he’s not good enough. He can’t buy her the baubles. Compared to Mr. Big Bucks Husband he makes what, a dollar ninety-eight a week? So he kills her in the jewelry store as a kind of ironic gesture. You know, you want diamonds baby? You’re dying for diamonds? So he does her in the Xavier’s and covers her with diamonds. How’s that for poetic justice? I like it. I agree. I think he’s your guy. Or one of them is, one of the boyfriends.”
Olivia shook her head. “Except we’re back to how did he get into the store and then into the safe to get the jewelry?”
Tuesday threw up her hands. “Oh, Ollie girl, do I have to do all the heavy lifting? Xavier’s in on it with him, lets him into the shop and opens the safe. I know what you’re gonna say. Xavier doesn’t have a motive for killing off one of his best clients and risking a PR disaster by having a dead woman show up in his shop and there’s no cause of death, but picky, picky, picky. Got anything better?”
Olivia said, “I think it’s brilliant and I hope you remember all that because as soon as we are done with this disaster, we are going to write it up and pitch it to Law and Order. But first, I have to go to the hardware store.”
Tuesday did a double take. “And we got from murder to your honey-do list how exactly?”
“Look at this.” Olivia rocked her stool. “This has been driving me crazy and I’m already half way there. Let’s run over to the hardware store and get some felt levelers. Then we’re going to track down one of Jocelyn’s amours.”
“Any chance we can stop in at The Salted Caramel for a quickie after?”
Olivia gave her a fist bump. “You’ll have to try their new flavor. Pistachio. It has real nuts toasted with brown sugar. It will put you out for the afternoon.”
Tuesday checked her toenails to make sure the polish had dried, then headed to the bedroom for her purse and shoes, calling over her shoulder, “But what a way to go. I’ll meet you at hashtag lets hustle.”
Olivia called after her, “Take off your hoop petticoat. It won’t fit in the truck.”
Tuesday protested the devastation it would wreak on her look, but in the end, she left it behind.
At Darling Hardware, more of a home accessories boutique than a one-stop shop for construction workers, Olivia asked a clerk she knew for Greg. Adele tended to be overly chatty and Olivia preferred dealing directly with the owner.
While giving Tuesday’s dress of many colors the once over, the clerk said, “Greg’s in the back, Olivia, waitin’ on a customer. Sure I can’t help you, darlin’?”
“No, Adele, but thanks. We’ll go back and wait for Greg.”
Adele announced over the intercom, “Customer for you, Greg. It’s Olivia and her friend. You know the one. I’m sendin’ em back, darlin’.”
Tuesday buffed her nails on her collar. “They remember me from my last visit.”
Olivia said, “Now there’s the difference between us. You take a statement like that and think Greg and Adele are praising you. I would think they’re mocking me.”
Tuesday flipped the skirt of the striped dress back and forth. “What’s to mock,” she asked in all seriousness. “Meditate, honey. It keeps positive vibes coming your way.”
“Yeah, Matt’s been telling me that. I have to ask him how it’s working out for him. If he’s ever off the hook for this Jocelyn business and allowed to talk to me again.”
Olivia and Tuesday strolled past inventory typical of all Darling Valley shops, expensive everything. Greg had expensive bathroom accessories, expensive outdoor grills and expensive collections of copper cookware sold under the names of celebrity chefs.
Tuesday picked up a manicure set embellished with gold flakes. “Just what I need. A nailbrush that costs more than my rent,” she said, and tossed it back onto the display case.
They arrived at the back counter where Greg kept the nuts and bolts, hammers and nails and heavy-duty power tools. Greg was ringing up a purchase for a man who, from the back, looked like he was intimate with Greg’s serious hardware. The owner waved to Olivia and brightened considerably when he recognized Tuesday from her last visit before taking back the credit card receipt the man had just signed. The guy put a small item in the pocket of his work pants, thanked Greg and turned for the door, almost walking into Olivia.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
Then he walked on toward the front door and Darling Boulevard, leaving Olivia dumbfounded.
Before she could get her equilibrium back, she grabbed Tuesday’s arm and whispered, “Hurry, Tues. Before he gets away. It’s Fabio. The guy in the picture with Jocelyn.”